BETTER SAFE THAN ZOMBIE

OZTS 18| Fever

"Why do I have to do this?" complained Hazel, tugging a lock of her dark hair that had gotten caught on a twig.

It was late in the afternoon, about three, and together with three Brownies, we had gotten outside to scavenge for plants to eat. The boys had been tasked to guard the safezone along with the rest of the Girl Scouts, and since we can't just leave three vulenerable small girls to fend for themselves, I dragged Hazel to go along with me.

"Why don't you put your hair in a bun?" I suggested, brushing a loose tendril of my hair out of my eyes. I myself had tied my own hair into a bun, but my malicious curls keep on escaping.

After watching Hazel get caught in a bramble again with her hair as the culprit, I sighed and snapped a twig off a branch. "Here, let me do it."

The three Brownies stared as I twisted Hazel's long dark hair into a neat loop and pushed the twig down, steadying the bun in place. It should hold her hair for a while, at least until we return.

"Miss Grant used to braid our hair," piped up one of the Brownies, whom I identified as Maureen. "Since she's gone, will you be the one to braid our hair from now on?"

I didn't answer. After Christian and I had found her body, we held a small funeral as the girls dropped wild flowers on the small grave Christian and Ethan had dug. Just as we were leaving, the girls suddenly gathered together, and in one voice, started chanting:

Once you're tagged, you become an It
That's what happens when you get bit
Fight, fight, fight!
Girl Scouts, fight!
Its are evil, Its are bad
If you kill them, then be glad
Make them pay, make them run
Make them not bite anyone
So don't get tagged because if you do
We'll kill you until you're black and blue.

It wasn't the chant itself that made chills run down my spine--it was the seriousness of it, their eyes grave and somber.

Afterwards, I caught Cassidy and asked her about the chant.

"Miss Grant taught it to us," was her reply. "Susan thought it would be a good goobye to her."

"Susan?" I repeated.

Cassidy pointed to the Brownie who told the girls to line up during breakfast earlier. She had now a couple of Daisies tagging along with her, and I realized she must be the one all the girls looked up to if they obeyed her so willingly.

"Thanks Cassidy," I said, letting her catch up to her friends.

We'll kill you until you're black and blue.

Shaking my head, I returned back to the present just as one of the Brownies picked up a yellow Coltsfoot flower.

"Pick the leaves too," I advised. "They taste bitter, but they'll taste good once you boil them."

"How do you know about this stuff anyway?" asked Hazel, who was helping Maureen gather Chickweed, a tiny plant with tiny white flowers. "I doubt your father taught you."

"My mother," I replied, putting the leaves into my backpack. "She wasn't a horticulture specialist or anything like that, but she grew outside of the city in my grandparents' farm. She especially loved gardens and plants."

We finished picking the Coltsfoot and went on to help Hazel and Maureen, who had found another edible plant. Just as the third Brownie--Candace--reached out to pick its leaves, Hazel's hand shot out and caught her arm.

"I knew it," she said, studying the girl's reddened arm. It was scaling and looked sunburned. "Pellagra. I noticed the symptoms on the teacher's arm too. Its a deficiency of Vitamin B3. Of course, it can't be helped considering that all they were eating consisted of plants. Its not as if there's an abundance of meat, fish and eggs to go around."